ITVCFITB CHAPTER 40

 Chapter 40: I’m Back

The moment Luo Shuyu ran into something his past life hadn’t prepared him for, panic pricked at him then he forced himself to cool down.

What should he do now?

He paced the room, turning the pieces over and over. The book never mentioned this, he’d never encountered it himself, and there were no street rumors about Li Mingjin injuring someone on the parade grounds.

Annoyingly, he couldn’t go to the drill field either.

In his previous life he’d never seen Li Mingjin crack a whip at anyone. Occasionally rumors drifted in. Stories of the Third Prince lashing people, but after not witnessing anything firsthand, fear dulled into indifference. He’d tucked it away as smoke and hearsay.

Perhaps because their feelings had settled so smoothly this time, he’d downplayed it further, assuming the tales were just that until reality slapped him. Li Mingjin could and did use a whip, and now it had truly happened.

Since their wedding, the Li Mingjin in Luo Shuyu’s eyes treated servants with cool reserve, yes, but he didn’t beat them or curse them. If he disliked someone, Steward Sun sent them packing. Luo Shuyu had almost never seen him raise a hand, much less a voice. Toward Luo Shuyu, his temper was absurdly gentle: told to sleep on the side couch, he didn’t sulk; at dawn he was out there sword-dancing just to coax a smile.

How could a man that tender suddenly lash out with a whip? Something had happened, something Luo Shuyu didn’t know.

What?

Why snap on the parade grounds, of all places, with Emperor Tiansheng watching?

What state had Li Mingjin been in? Clear-headed or not? Pushed or acting of his own accord?

He asked the guard, “You weren’t there when His Highness struck?”

“We were kept outside,” the guard said. “His Highness stood with the others. His Highness the Crown Prince, the Eldest Prince… all were present.”

“Tell me exactly what you know.”

“Yes.”

The messenger was Jiang, a nondescript guard who shadowed Li Mingjin closely, face so ordinary he vanished in a crowd. He answered cleanly; what he knew matched the others.

That day, the princes sat with the emperor to watch the imperial guards’ competition.

Most in the imperial guard were the capital’s promising youths. If they performed well and caught the emperor’s eye, they could become personal bodyguards, glory and promotion in one.

Plenty of them had ties to court officials. Some had already picked sides.

In past years the emperor would also have his grown sons show their mettle. Princes of Great Xia were meant to be both learned and lethal; self-defense wasn’t optional.

This year was the same. Emperor Tiansheng expected his adult sons to shine and win the Li clan face.

The Fourth Prince went first, then the Third, then the Eldest, with the Crown Prince as finale.

Li Mingchun, Fourth Prince, was middling; after a bout, he barely managed a draw. The emperor’s face tightened.

Then came Li Mingjin. His reputation for a “bad temper” existed mostly because his martial skill was sharp. He’d barely stepped onto the platform before sweeping his opponent clean off, leaving no room for mercy. Emperor Tiansheng then clapped, satisfied.

“Looks like Mingjin’s made progress,” he even praised.

Officials chimed dutifully.

But the Third and Fourth were the warm-up. What people really wanted to see was the emperor’s attitude toward the Eldest and the Crown Prince. Whoever got the praise would strut; whoever didn’t would eat crow.

After the sparring came archery; all four princes went down to take bows.

And while they were collecting bows and arrows, the Third Prince suddenly lashed someone with his whip for no apparent reason.

The target? The commander of the imperial guard’s own son.

That did it. With the commander standing right at the emperor’s side, the prince had struck the man’s son in front of his father and others besides. Doing it under his father’s nose as if the emperor didn’t exist, what gall. If Emperor Tiansheng wasn’t going to lock someone up now, when would he?

That was the shape of it. As for what exactly triggered Li Mingjin’s strike, only a handful present would know.

Luo Shuyu fell quiet. He wouldn’t have the truth till he saw Li Mingjin himself.

Who could bring Li Mingjin back for him?

The emperor wouldn’t truly break his own son, but where was he confined, and who watched the door? No one knew. What happened next was a bigger unknown.

Luo Shuyu made a decision. The one who understood Li Mingjin best, and who could approach the emperor most naturally, was Consort Mei.

Consort Mei looked like she didn’t care for her son, but that was façade. Whenever she grew something new, she sent a taste to the Third Prince’s manor. She might be cool, but ten months makes a bond, you don’t stop caring just because you say so.

At this point, neither he nor Consort Mei could stand aside. They both needed to be razor-sharp.

Others might call it a trifle, “The Third Prince whips people all the time; His Majesty will lock him up two days and cool off; he’ll come out, he’s a prince, isn’t he? Why fuss?”

But Luo Shuyu wasn’t “others.” He smelled something wrong. He would not watch Li Mingjin be bullied and do nothing. This was why he’d come back to protect his person.

He sent in his token and entered the palace, heading straight for Consort Mei.

She looked genuinely startled to see him.

He skipped pleasantries. They weren’t close, and time mattered more than courtesy. He couldn’t endure losing Li Mingjin, couldn’t even bear him hurt. The fear chilled him.

Every time “injury” surfaced, that night returned, the one he never wanted to remember, Li Mingjin shielding him as arrows turned him into a man of blood. He wouldn’t lose him. He wouldn’t watch him hurt. Not even to Emperor Tiansheng.

He stated his purpose bluntly. “Mother Consort, forgive the intrusion, but it’s urgent. I hope you’ll help His Highness.”

Consort Mei had been weeding with a little hoe, her manner light. Seeing that worry wasn’t a pose, she dusted her hands with a kerchief. “What’s happened?”

He summarized the whipping incident, then asked, “Has this ever happened before?”

Her brows drew together. “It has. His temper can turn vicious; sometimes he… injures people. Your father-in-law has confined him more than once, usually for two days, then he’s released.”

An ache shot through Luo Shuyu. “Did Mother Consort never wonder if something else was wrong? He left home calm this morning. Since we married, he’s been steady; I’ve never seen him flare. I don’t believe he’s just ‘ill-tempered.’”

She patted his arm and led him inside. “Come have tea. I pan-fired these leaves myself. Don’t fret, he’ll be fine.” At the threshold, she flicked a look at her maid.

Inside, only the two of them.

Consort Mei resumed her icy poise, the earlier crease between her brows almost a mirage. She pressed him into a chair. “Sit. Listen.”

He nodded, bracing. At least she had something to say.

She sighed, very softly. “His temper, that problem, it’s been some time.”

“Is he ill?” Luo Shuyu ventured.

She neither confirmed nor denied. “Shuyu, understand this: everyone needs a way to stay alive. The imperial palace looks bright on the surface, but anyone who survives here bleeds for it.”

For someone who’d met him fewer than five times, it was a naked hint and a step toward baring Li Mingjin’s secret.

Luo Shuyu understood and his heart hurt all the more.

A way to stay alive… a way to stay alive…

He hated this “way.”

“Mother Consort, could you please petition His Majesty to send His Highness back to the manor?”

He knew the cells by the drill field. In late autumn, shut in without food or drink? If he fell ill? He didn’t have Shen Mingyun’s miracle pellets to fix everything.

She studied him, then said, “I’ll try. No promises. Whenever he ‘falls ill,’ His Majesty locks him up, fearing he’ll hurt someone.”

“Then lock him at our manor,” Luo Shuyu said, voice hard. “I’ll take care of him. With me there, he won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”

Her eyes softened a fraction. “I understand.” She tipped her chin toward the beam. “Go home and wait for news.”

At the door, Luo Shuyu said quietly, “Mother Consort, I don’t want him suffering this ‘illness’ ever again. I will cure him.”

After he’d gone, Consort Mei stared at a row of tender bok choy. “How?” she murmured. “If I could’ve, I’d have cured him long ago.”

Luo Shuyu hurried back. He believed in Consort Mei. If she spoke, Li Mingjin should be returned. Even the emperor knew about “this illness.”

Why hadn’t he known in his last life?

How good had Li Mingjin been to him then to hide even this? How much work did it take to keep him in the dark? The more he thought of it, the more it throbbed.

No wonder Li Mingjin so often slept in the study, disappearing for days at a time. Ask the servants and they’d give the same empty answers. So it had been this.

How thoroughly he’d ignored him, last time.

Grief stung sharp enough to blur his eyes. Just then, someone blocked his path.

“Well, if it isn’t Third Sister-in-law. What brings you to the palace at this hour?”

The Crown Princess had just left the Empress’s quarters. From her look, she was in excellent spirits.

Luo Shuyu pinned his worry under a flat calm. “To pay respects to Mother Consort.”

“Oh? Not for Third Brother?”

“Why ask when you already know?”

Yan Wandie raised a hand to her lips and tittered. “Tell me, which is better? A husband with a mad temper and an empty inner courtyard, or one hale and hearty with three wives and four concubines?”

Luo Shuyu let a smile curve at the corner of his mouth, leaned in, and murmured at her ear, “Then Your Highness must be very comfortable now. You and His Highness are so very affectionate, envy of all. I hear His Majesty’s wishing for a grandson of late. It’s been almost two years since your wedding, hasn’t it?”

Her face flickered from green to white. He was mocking her barrenness.

He’d been in a foul mood already. If someone insisted on parading herself in front of him, he wasn’t about to be polite. He hated those who lorded it over him. One came, one he cut down.

She drew a deep breath and glared. “Hmph. And you, a man, dare throw that at me? See if you can bear a child first!”

“No need for Your Highness to worry,” he said with a thin smile. “My lord works very hard. I hope His Highness the Crown Prince will work harder on your behalf as well.” He gave her a neat bow, spine straight, and strode out of the palace.

So much for noble breeding. Yan Wandie didn’t have an ounce of it. How had the Empress Dowager and Empress chosen her? Ah, right, she was the prime minister’s legitimate granddaughter. “Noble” on paper. In mien? Not so much. Rather like Shen Mingyun.

The Crown Princess stamped in place. Everyone saw a model couple but only she knew the Crown Prince’s heart was elsewhere, held in place by the Empress Dowager and Empress. She could pretend, before; now, with her wound prodded, she felt herself cracking.

Detestable Luo Shuyu, always aiming for the jugular. One day, she’d make him pay.

For now, the Third Prince had his own troubles. Hmph.

---

In his last life, Luo Shuyu could pity anyone, and ignore anything.

Not this time. Li Mingjin was the one he’d spend his life with, the one he would shield. No one could speak ill of him, not to his face.

Even if the Empress herself insulted Li Mingjin today, he’d throw it straight back. An eye for an eye. Otherwise he’d choke on the frustration.

He returned to the manor with a face like winter. Servants shrank into silence, hands light, feet lighter. Since his arrival, discipline had tightened by the day. Anyone who leaked the manor’s business didn’t just earn a beating, they were sold off, no mercy.

Don’t let the mild face fool you; the Third Prince Consort was not someone to trifle with. He disdained petty back-courtyard tricks, but he cut cleanly. Tenure meant nothing. “Old service”? Not a shield here.

That nonsense about servants dining with their master, perhaps only the Fourth Prince’s manor indulged Shen Mingyun so.

He did wonder how the Fourth had stomached it.

Luo Shuyu told the steward to lock the servants’ tongues and headed straight for the main quarters.

He couldn’t just sit and wait for Consort Mei. He needed to move.

In the study that still smelled like Li Mingjin, Luo Shuyu combed through the novel in his mind. It never mentioned any “illness” of Li Mingjin’s; everyone simply called him cruel and violent. The truth had been buried beneath the main character’s love story.

So why think of the book at all?

Because he remembered a divine physician. In the story, when Shen Mingyun followed the Fourth Prince to the front, the prince was poisoned. Shen lucked into a traveling miracle doctor. The trade: the doctor would detoxify the prince; Shen would hand over a “miracle pill.” In truth, it was an ordinary pill sugar-coated. Thanks to an item that masked tastes, by the time it reached the doctor’s hand it was flavorless; he never scented the simple herbs within.

Cheating the divine physician got the poison purged; then the campaign turned, they won and from there the Fourth began to glitter in the emperor’s eyes.

If Li Mingjin truly had been poisoned… where could Luo Shuyu find that doctor?

Where?

All he knew was a moniker, All-Toxins-Cured. A wandering healer, rootless as wind.

Dusk drew down and lamps bloomed in the Third Prince’s manor.

A full table sat before Luo Shuyu, and he had no appetite. Without Li Mingjin, even soup stuck in his throat.

He’d barely lifted his chopsticks when Feng Momo entered. “Master, His Highness is back!”

He dropped the chopsticks. “Where?”

Nanny Feng hesitated. “When you see him, please don’t be alarmed.”

“What happened?”

“His Highness, he…”

He didn’t wait for the halting explanation; he bolted out.

He arrived just as Shadows Three and Four shouldered in a man spattered with blood, forehead, robes, everywhere.

The man forced a corner of his mouth up. “Don’t worry,” he said, voice thin. “I’m back.”

Before the last word fell, Li Mingjin collapsed.

Luo Shuyu lunged, eyes burning red. “Li Mingjin! You are not allowed to die! You will live. For me!”

---

Author’s note:
Third Prince: “I! Can still! Stand! Wife, quick, help!”
Luo Shuyu: “…”

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Little note(s):
Mien: Historically, it refers to how someone carries themselves, including their demeanor, grace, refinement, and air of nobility.